Be a girl

The next day, whilst James and I were at mum and Miranda’s house, dad went out and bought himself some men’s clothes in his new size, and proudly showed them off to us after mum dropped us off back home. Although dad didn’t wear them at work, he would come home every day, and immediately don his binder and new clothes. Seeing the smile appear on his face after he came from work filled me with such relief.

Throughout the last week of the holidays, James and I settled into somewhat of a routine, playing video games together in the lounge room. Towards the end of the week, I was sad that it would be over soon, not wanting to go back to mum’s place on the weekend, nor back to school the next week.

But it was on Friday, at around noon, that an unexpected visitor disrupted our routine first. I was hesitant to answer the door until I realised that it might be a postie delivering a package for dad, although he hadn’t informed me of any packages he might have ordered. Then again, he could be rather forgetful at times.

James stayed on the lounge, patiently awaiting my return, as I got up and opened the front door. The person waiting on the other side surprised me. Isabel stood before me, wearing a cute autumn outfit: a black knee length skirt with matching stockings to keep her legs warm, a pale blue woollen cardigan, and a scarf wrapped around her neck.

“Hi,” she said as if she hadn’t just shown up at my home completely unannounced, “Mind if I come in?”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know why she was even here. I was so taken aback that I simply stood in the doorway, staring at her, expressionless, for longer than would be considered usual or appropriate.

My brain eventually caught up with my current situation. Should I let her in? I was still annoyed at what she’d done at the sleepover. But she had also come all this way on her own just to see me. It felt rude not to at least hear what she had to say. I wasn’t so mad at her that I couldn’t allow her that. She must have been here for a reason.

Without a word, I moved out of the way of the door, allowing her entry. She nodded with a soft smile and walked inside, pulling her scarf off as she did so. I first led her to the lounge room where I informed my little brother that we’d have to pause our play session for the moment. He didn’t really mind too much, since all it meant for him was playing singleplayer for a while, rather than multiplayer. I trusted that he wouldn’t do anything that would get him in trouble with dad whilst Izzy and I talked in my bedroom.

I sat down on my bed, and Izzy followed suit shortly after, placing herself down beside me. She had a good look around my rather drab room. I was a little embarrassed at her seeing some of my clothes strewn about across the floor – if I’d known she was coming I would have tidied up. My desk was also a mess, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that on short notice. That would require a real deep clean. Something for which I did not have the energy on the best of days.

After a few moments of silence, of her taking in my room, she spoke up, softly, warmly. “We miss you, you know.”

I didn’t respond. I let the words linger for a while, to allow them to sink in, and she did the same. I didn’t think she was expecting a response anyway. It was a statement, one that I already had a strong feeling to be true. I wasn’t surprised they all missed me, and I wasn’t surprised that that was the reason for Izzy’s visit. From her perspective, I’d just run away for no reason, then refused to elaborate. Only Claire knew the truth.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

How was I feeling? By this point, I wasn’t even sure. I was still mad at the girls; I knew that much. But the sleepover was so long ago now that the muddle of feelings had mellowed out into a hazy sludge. It was now difficult to discern what was wrong. However, I was still upset at the girls, of that I was sure.

But I couldn’t deny that I was becoming rather lonely after so much time avoiding them. I should have been accustomed to being on my own by now; after all, that’s what life at my previous school was like when Jesse and his goons weren’t pestering me. Apparently making friends had made being on my own much more difficult.

“I don’t know,” I answered. For once I was speaking the truth. I truly did not know.

“Well, whatever it is that’s troubling you, talking about it will help.”

Her voice was soft and soothing, as it usually was. She always had a way of calming my anxious mind with just her voice. She was right, of course, another thing at which she was rather good. That didn’t mean I wanted to do as she asked. Especially not with her. But she’d come all this way. Was I really still so mad at her?

“You wouldn’t understand,” I stated bluntly. Of course she wouldn’t. She’d been a girl her whole life. She couldn’t possibly know what I was going through. Or why I’d become so upset in the first place. Claire understood, but it was her at whom I was most mad.

“Probably not. But I don’t think that matters. Sometimes, all we need is someone who will listen.”

I sighed wistfully, cupping my chin in my hand and looking away from her. I didn’t know what to say, even if I did want to speak.

“Can you tell me why you ran away that night?”

It felt like so long ago now, even if it really wasn’t in the grand scheme of things. I could hardly remember the emotions running through my mind at the time. I knew that I was angry and upset. At the girls, at myself.

But I knew why I ran away. Because the dress brought feelings I’d buried deep down inside to the forefront of my mind. No longer could I avoid them; I had faced them directly. That no matter how hard I tried, I could never be a girl, as much as I desired it. My sick, twisted, perverse desire, that labelled me as freak of nature. An outcast. A defective failure of a boy.

That night had laid bare a truth about me that I never wanted to let free. All because I caved into peer pressure, and ignored the alarm bells that told me to stop. Because I couldn’t deny that I wanted it. The essence of my being had blazed with vibrant euphoria… for that brief moment. But there was no going back now. Claire knew, and I had no doubt that Izzy and Rachel also knew, even without being told directly.

Although perhaps my nature wasn’t as perverted as I’d always believed. Claire knew. She’d always known. She’d even admitted that she’d felt the same. And of course, Rachel and now Izzy had both tried to wrangle me back into the group as well. They’d encouraged my behaviour on that night. But they still saw me as their friend; one of them. Despite everything.

However, even knowing that, it didn’t expunge those thoughts from my mind. No amount of reassurances or platitudes from the people whom I used to call friends could quell the idea that I was simply a freak. My wants were simply against nature itself.

“Because no matter what I do, I’ll always be an ugly man,” I admitted, without so much as a glance in her direction.

“I think you actually made quite a cute girl that night,” she countered warmly and reassuringly.

The change in temperature of my face was both drastic and immediate. She didn’t mean that. Surely not. She was just trying to make me feel better about myself. There was now, however, zero doubt in my mind that she knew. She wouldn’t try to reassure me in such a manner if she didn’t. Not that her words were reassuring. She was just trying to placate me. She didn’t know what she was talking about.

“No, I didn’t,” I mumbled.

“Who’s the better judge here? The lesbian or the ace?” she smirked.

I covered my face in embarrassment. She had a point. No! What was I thinking!? She was still just trying to humour me! She didn’t actually believe that. Did she? No.

“Why are you here?” I groaned.

“I wanted to see how you were holding up,” she replied, “And to tell you that your friends will always be by your side, if you let us. We know you’re upset, but none of us ever meant to hurt you. We only want you to be happy. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

Flopping down onto my back, I sighed. Why did she have to be like this? I’d been mad at her and the others for so long, and yet she made it so difficult to stay that way. I wanted her to leave, just so that I had reason to continue being annoyed, but I couldn’t ask her to do that. I also wanted her to stay. She had such a soothing effect on me, and I hated her for it. Why did she have to be so nice?

“Why are you doing this?”

Izzy laid herself down beside me. I turned my head to face her, and she did the same. Our faces were so close, it was almost uncomfortable. But her smile made me feel welcome, safe. Up so close, I could see all the details of her face. Her freckles, spattered all over; her perfect eyeliner, tapering off into a fine point on each side; her eyebrows, expertly groomed; her lips, with a faint hint of pink lipstick; and her wide glasses, framing her entire face beautifully. She really was very pretty. I wished I could be half as pretty as her, but I wasn’t allowed.

“Because I’m your friend,” she smiled, “And friends care for each other.”

“Even after finding out that I’m a freak?”

She frowned. “I don’t think you’re a freak at all.”

“Don’t lie to me…”

“I resent that.”

Her stern expression told me that she really did resent being called a liar. Perhaps she was telling the truth. Perhaps she really didn’t believe I was a freak. But why wouldn’t she? It didn’t make sense. She knew

. I knew that she knew. There was no way she hadn’t put the pieces together; she was far too intelligent.

I rolled over so that we were no longer facing each other. I couldn’t look at her anymore. I didn’t deserve to. “But how can you not?” I mumbled, “It’s wrong of me to want to be a girl. I’m a freak and a pervert.”

I felt a touch on my shoulder and flinched. The hand pulled away nervously.

“Listen,” she said softly, “Growing up, I was always told that one day I would find a husband who I would settle down and have kids with. That was how it was supposed to be. My parents aren’t exactly homophobic, but they still pushed that idea onto me, and I internalised it. I believed that liking girls was wrong and deviant. That it wasn’t allowed. And when I realised that I’m a lesbian… I hated myself. I felt gross for all these feelings which I couldn’t control, and it wasn’t healthy. But I eventually learnt that I wasn’t the one who was wrong. It was everyone else.”

I let her words roll around in my mind. I knew what she was trying to do; relate to me, and use that to try and comfort me. And I did relate, to an extent. But not in regards to what we were discussing here. I’d already come to terms with my orientation. What we were discussing here was different, incomparable.

“It’s not the same,” I muttered.

“Maybe not. But my point is, I don’t think it’s wrong that you want to be a girl, or wear dresses, or go by a feminine name and pronouns. I don’t think less of you, and neither do the others. We all still love you, and that won’t ever change.”

My vision blurred slightly, as the beginnings of tears began forming in my eyes. Of all times, why was I crying now? Maybe it was because despite my most hidden secret being revealed to her, she still didn’t turn away from me. Instead, she urged me to come back. I didn’t deserve this. I deserved to be shunned by everyone for being the freak that I was. But that’s not what was happening. I didn’t understand it.

I wiped my eyes and suppressed the tears. It was a struggle, but I managed to say, “Can we stop talking about this?” I couldn’t deal with this anymore. I didn’t want to continue thinking about this. It was all too much.

“Ok,” Izzy replied, “But you have to promise me something.”

“Hmm?”

“Promise me that you’ll come back to our group when school starts back up again.”

I sighed. That was… probably reasonable. With a deep breath, I rolled back over to face her. She had propped herself up on her elbow in order to get a better look at me whilst I was facing away. I accepted her offer, and she gave me a comforting smile.

***

She didn’t leave right away. Instead, I asked her to stay, since I realised just how much I’d missed her. She of course accepted my offer. Not wanting to leave my brother out, we both joined him in the lounge room and played games together. Izzy was woefully terrible, and rather embarrassed about getting repeatedly beaten by a ten year old. I reassured her, however, that James was quite good for his age, and she shouldn’t feel bad; the important thing was that we all had fun.

By the time evening came around, she decided it was time for her to head home. Dad had come home, happy to see me with a friend, and asked if she’d like to stay for dinner. She respectfully declined, but thanked him for the offer. She lingered for a moment as she exited the house, turning to face me. With a comforting smile, she reminded me to not forget my promise. I assured her that I would not.

With a smile and a wave, she began walking off. At that moment, I remembered something. I had something of hers that I’d never had the opportunity to return. “Wait!” I called out. She stopped and looked back at me, puzzled. “I still have your dress.”

She smirked. “Keep it,” she said, “It looks better on you anyway.” She winked and then continued towards her car, leaving me to stand in the doorway, completely stunned. I watched her drive off in my stupor.

She didn’t really mean that, did she?